


Counting Days

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boredom, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Loneliness, Prison, Reichenbach Falls, Slightly Dark!Molly, Talking, Unexpected Visitors, molliarty - Freeform, not quite, or at least dark enough to be susceptible to Jim, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's plan is working so well he's going out of his mind. Molly can't stop thinking about him. They've got nothing in common except solitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Days

Prison was boring. Boooooring. Necessary but boring. If he wasn’t already insane he might easily go mad, the dull concrete reflecting his thoughts back at him endlessly.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Impossible. His lawyer never came, since they were mounting no defence, and there was no one else.

 

Molly couldn’t get used to seeing his face everywhere. Every paper, every magazine, Jim’s dead eyes stared at her and she cringed as if he was really in the room.

She was never afraid he’d come after her. Yes, she was on his radar, but such a small insignificant blip she didn’t feel any concern. What about her could possibly interest James Moriarty? Her only appeal was as a gateway to Sherlock, and he’d already abused that once. Still, when she saw those eyes repeated over and over on the newsprint she couldn’t help but shudder.

She wasn’t sure why she went. Maybe it was something about seeing him caged like some rare beast, some small reassurance she needed. They took her to a small grey box with a guard at each door and led him in like a dog on a leash. Or not a dog – a wolf. He looked like a stranger in his uniform, the restraints so out of place. His gaze fell on her and Jim looked almost stunned for a second before grinning, brow raised.

 

Of all the people who might come, Jim had never expected Molly. She looked so completely out of her element, fresh faced and nervous. When their eyes met he could hear the sharp breath, could almost feel it on his skin.

“Well! What a surprise.”

“I just came to...I don’t know, see you?”

“Are we friends now? Or perhaps I'm more of a curiosity, like a dancing bear?”

She didn't answer and he sat back in the chair.

“Tell me something about the world, Molly.”

“Why?”

“It’s a very tedious place, prison. Even when I go out to the trial all I do is listen to other people talk about how audacious I am. You can only hear it so many times before even that gets old.”

Molly shifted in her seat. “Why should I talk to you? You lied to me. You used me.”

“You’re right. And yet here you are...”

 

In the end she gave him the most basic rundown on current events she could. She barely glanced at the papers anymore, too afraid of seeing him, so she didn't have much to say. She wouldn't talk about Sherlock or John. She wouldn't talk about herself. She stumbled over half-remembered articles and knew it was crap, but he listened with an avid gaze and a smile.

“Thank you.” He said when she’d trailed off, and he looked so sincere it was shocking.

“No problem. I’ll be off then.”

“Come again tomorrow.”

“No.” She laughed nervously.

 “If you don’t I’ll skin your cat and make you a pair of mittens with its pelt.”

“You can’t,” her voice shook, “You’re locked up.”

“If you honestly believe that would hinder me, you’re stupider than I thought.”

 

She watched him silently. The calm on his face belied the strength in his hands clasped on the table, and she knew coming had been a mistake. “Fine.”

“Oh goodie! See you then Mollikins.”

She paused in the doorway, looking back. “Why me? If you called Sherlock he’d probably be here before you finished asking.”

“Sherly’s not the sociable type.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

*****

Molly was better prepared the next day. She had a more thorough scan of the papers, and was interested to see that Jim asked questions this time. He probably had people involved but she didn’t think about it too much, concentrating on relaying what she’d memorised.

When they ran out of news, she told him about one of the bodies that had come into the morgue. Again she had that momentary doubt that he knew more about it than her, but he listened and made a few helpful suggestions and at the end of their time, he seemed a bit happier.

“Will you come again?”

 

She visited every day for a week before Jim did more than ask questions. He’d convinced her to tell him more about where she’d grown up, and since Molly figured he could easily find it out for himself she might as well. She was describing her mother’s garden when he perked up.

“My mother loved roses. She used to plant them, all different colours.”

“Oh?”

His face closed off and he rested a hand over his mouth as if to remind himself not to do that again.

 

After two weeks, Lestrade confronted her in the lab. “Molly, I heard that you’ve been going out to see Moriarty.”

“Yes.”

“Every day.”

“Yes. He was lonely, and I...I felt bad for him I suppose.” She didn’t say she was lonely too.

“Molly, he’s a criminal. He’s supposed to be unhappy being locked up.”

She smiled shyly. “I guess I’m just being silly.”

But he didn’t say she couldn’t go, and she didn’t stop.

*****

“Molly!” he beamed as she sat down.

“Hello. How’s things?”

“The usual. No brutality to report.” He snickered, glancing at the guards.

She didn’t doubt he could look after himself.

“The trial will be finished soon.” He said casually, tracing a finger over the steel table.

“Do you think...how does it look?”

He looked up, eyes wide and almost childlike, and she told herself for the hundredth time not to get sucked in.

“Will you still visit me, Molly, when it’s over?”

 

Jim waltzed out of court and stopped at the top of the stairs, straightening his suit as the cameras clicked around him. Sebastian sat behind the wheel of his car lazily, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he waited.

“What now, boss?”

“I want to check our progress.”

“All going perfectly.”

Jim tapped his fingers on his armrest with a scowl. “Miss Hooper wasn’t there for the verdict.”

“Must be at work.”

The consulting criminal stared out the window. “Perhaps.”

 

While Sherlock made tea for someone who wasn’t coming, Jim let himself into Molly’s flat. The brunette was curled on the couch staring at the TV without really looking at it. She didn’t look surprised to see him. “I couldn’t come. I didn’t want to disappoint Sherlock.”

“Oh him. Forget Sherly, Mollikins,” he smiled and clapped his hands. “I just got out of prison. Let’s get falling down drunk and shag each other into the carpet.”

Molly chewed her lip uncertainly, the differences between the subdued Jim she was used to and this pinball in a silver suit too much. He crouched until their eyes were level.

“Let me reward you for the company.”

 

Getting off that couch would be like jumping off a cliff. She knew it, knew there was no going back. She knew it was stupid and dangerous, not just for herself. Molly looked Jim in the face blankly, knowing who he was, knowing he didn’t need her the way she was starting to need him.

“If I say yes, do you promise to visit me after?”

Jim grinned, teeth white and sharp. “Every day.”

She took his hand and jumped.


End file.
